


Tell Them I Don't Smoke Cigars

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing, Genderqueer Character, Gunplay, M/M, Sibling Incest, bank robbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Bonnie and Clyde-inspired AU where Mikey is genderqueer, the Ways are bank robbers in need of a disguise, and Gerard is in need of a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Them I Don't Smoke Cigars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alpheratz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpheratz/gifts).



> Title is from Bonnie Parker, bank robber, trying to correct misinformation about herself before her trial.

"The Feds are looking for two brothers in a stolen car," Gerard says, watching as Mikey steps out of his trousers, folds them over his arm, and places them over the back of a chair. "When we leave tomorrow, we'll be two sisters with train tickets."

Mikey unbuttons his shirt in smooth, efficient flicks of his wrist. Gerard loves to watch Mikey's hands do things like this, simple motions that look elegant under his fingers. "To where?" 

"Wherever you can get. Somewhere we can lie low."

Mikey tilts his head in acknowledgment and lays the shirt over the trousers. He's standing in his boxer shorts and his socks, unselfconscious and pale in the dingy light of their hotel. Gerard lets his eyes slide down Mikey's body and up again; Mikey catches him at it and quirks his mouth in a half-smile before he reaches for his suitcase.

Gerard averts his eyes and lights a cigarette. "Train tickets and clothes for me," he says, listening to the soft rustling noises of Mikey changing. "Try not to spend too much."

"We have plenty." 

"But we have to hide out for a while. Not pull any jobs. We'll run through it fast."

"You're paranoid." Mikey steps over in front of Gerard and Gerard looks up sharply, blinking to clear the smoke from his eyes. Mikey's dressed in a simple, dark dress, stockings, and low heels. Gerard takes another drag on his cigarette and mentally changes over to thinking of Mikey as his sister, just like he's done ever since they were teenagers and Mikey said, _I'm not really a boy, I don't think. At least not all the time._

"I'm careful," he tells her now, reaching up to straighten the collar on her dress. "You be careful too, please."

"Yes." She guides his hand down to her thigh, where he can feel the line of the garter she uses to hold a little pistol hidden away. There's another one in her purse. Mikey's always prepared. "I'll be back soon."

She steps back to look in the mirror, slipping a few pins into her hair to help out the Brylcreem she slicked into it earlier, when she was a boy. She takes a cloche from her suitcase and sets it on her head, turning back and forth to study her reflection and adjust it on her brow.

"We don't have all day," Gerard prompts gently.

"Blow it out your ear," Mikey says, flashing him a grin and taking a lipstick from her purse. She draws the color on, smooth and bright, then turns to leave. Gerard watches her hips sway until the door slams closed behind her, then lights another cigarette and lies back to wait. 

**

Mikey comes back with her arms full of bags from the department store. "Two dresses, stockings, underwear, shoes, a jacket, a hat, makeup," she rattles off before Gerard can ask.

"I told you not to spend too much."

"I want you to be convincing." She sets the bags on the bed and pulls two train tickets from the bosom of her dress. "Here."

Gerard takes them and glances at the text. "New York?"

"We'll blend into the crowds."

"I suppose." He puts them in the pocket of his jacket and looks at her for a moment. She's standing just barely out of his reach. "Mikey."

"Yes?" She smiles, just a little bit, that faint curving of her mouth that makes something twitch down low in his spine. 

"C'mere." He reaches for her, but she steps back, deftly staying out of range.

"Try on your new clothes, Gerard."

"I'll do it in the morning." He grabs for her again, but she shakes her head, pulling a bundle of tissue paper out of one of the bags and beginning to unwrap it.

"I want to see you. Try them on for me."

He exhales in frustration and stands up, balancing himself on the edge of the bed as he kicks his shoes off. "Fine. Fine." 

The bundle she's unwrapping turns out to be the underclothes, which makes his stomach twist up. He's never tried women's underthings on before. He wore a dress, once, pulling it over his head in a hurry to make himself invisible in a crowd while the cops were chasing them. He's never gone from the skin out, on purpose, like Mikey does.

He strips down and she watches him without blinking or looking away. He's wondered, a lot, what it's like to be Mikey, to switch back and forth from boy to girl in a way the world wouldn't allow if it knew. Gerard's never asked, though; if Mikey wants him to know, Mikey will tell him. And it doesn't matter anyway. Gerard loves Mikey no matter what. They're family.

"You have to tuck it back," Mikey says when Gerard pulls the frilly underpants up over his cock. "Between your thighs."

"That sounds uncomfortable."

Mikey shrugs slightly, rubbing the edge of her thumb at her lip and frowning at the streak of lipstick left on her nail. Gerard takes a breath and does as she described, pushing his cock back and holding it in place with the fabric. It is uncomfortable, but not unbearable. It'll do. 

The brassiere is next, and that's a pain in the ass, all straps and cups and frustration. Mikey ignores his muttering and stuffs handkerchiefs into it, stepping back and frowning when she's done. "You'll need to walk so you draw attention to your hips."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"I'll show you. Put the dress on."

The dress is plainly cut, a dark blue cotton with a small red pattern running through it and red trim at the waist and collar. "They didn't have anything prettier?" Gerard asks. He's teasing, mostly. 

"Don't want to draw attention," Mikey whispers. She's looking at Gerard wide-eyed, her lips slack. "And it is pretty. You're pretty."

Gerard blushes and looks down at himself. "I feel silly."

"You shouldn't." Mikey goes over to the bags and finds the makeup--lipstick and powder and blush and a pencil to draw dark lines around Gerard's eyes. She runs her fingers through his hair, lifting it deftly from where he parts it and combs it down to let it fall around his face in straggly lines. "I'll put it in pin curls before we go to bed," she says, studying him carefully, her fingers twisting in the dark strands. "And comb it out in the morning. You'll wear a hat. You'll be perfect."

"I feel ridiculous."

Mikey lets her hand fall from his face. "It's a mindset, more than anything. You have to think of yourself like a movie star. Be Claudette Colbert or somebody."

"Who are you?"

"I'm a mixture." Mikey smiles and leans back against the edge of the bed, tipping her head back to show the line of her neck. Gerard knows it's an act, knows she's putting on a show, but he still can't look away. "A femme fatale."

"You're dressed more like a shopgirl."

"It's all in the attitude. I told you." Mikey stands up straight and smooths her hands over the front of her dress. "I'll show you. Sit down there on the bed." Gerard does as he's told, and Mikey turns away, walking over to the door and ducking her head for a minute. 

When she turns and walks toward the bed again, Gerard almost swallows his tongue. It's like someone took the Mikey he knows away and replaced her with somebody else, somebody from a movie, just like she said. One of the dark-eyed vamps they used to watch on the screen when they went to the show on Saturday afternoons. Apparently Mikey had been paying close attention.

Mikey stops and cocks her hip, smiling coquettishly at him. "Hey, missy."

Gerard recognizes some parts of this; the way Mikey's eyes don't fit the smile, the way her gaze digs in sharply, that's just like when they're running a job and Mikey's casing the joint. The way she's standing, holding a casual pose but ready to move at any minute, that's like when they're pulling off the robbery itself, ready to bolt for the car at any minute. 

"Honey. I'm talking to you."

Gerard blinks rapidly. "Oh. Hello?"

"That's better." Mikey bats her eyelashes, which wouldn't look right at all ordinarily, but she's being _different_ right now. "Don't suppose I can bum a cigarette?"

"I. Yes." Gerard reaches for the bedside table, where his lighter and Camels are still lying. Mikey balances the cigarette lightly between her lips, holding her hair back with both hands while Gerard lights it. Gerard lights one for himself as well and sits there feeling awkwar, knowing he's holding the cigarette all wrong, wondering if he's going to catch his hair on accident, not sure if he's doing any of this right.

"You're a pretty little thing," Mikey says, blowing smoke at him. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No. I'm from back East."

"Swell. Me too." Mikey tilts her head back, taking a deep drag. "Tell me something, honey. You ever seen a real, live, loaded weapon before?"

Gerard blinks. "Yeah. Of course I have."

Mikey frowns and drops her hand to her side. "Gerard! You're not doing it right."

"Not doing _what_ right?"

"I thought you were doing the wide-eyed innocent thing on purpose."

Gerard groans and kicks the edge of the bed. "I'm just _confused_."

"Shit." Mikey runs her hand over her hair and steps back, glaring at herself in the mirror. "Forget it, then."

"No, no, I get it now. I'll do it right."

"I said forget it."

"Mikey, come on, I get what the game is now. I'll do it right. I promise."

Mikey looks at him for a minute, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed. "Yeah?"

"Yes." Gerard nods and rubs his hands on his thighs. "Go."

Mikey clears her throat and takes another careful drag. "You ever seen a real, live, loaded weapon before?"

"No, ma'am." Gerard tries to widen his eyes, to look shocked. "Not ever."

"Then I've got something to show you, doll. C'mere."

Gerard slips off the bed, remembering to smooth his skirt before he takes a step toward Mikey. She's smirking at him, tapping her pistol against her thigh. It's not the little derringer, either--this is the gun she carries when they're pulling off a job. He didn't even see her get it from her suitcase.

"Oh," Gerard says, letting the word out as a little gasp. "That's quite a gun."

"It sure is."

"It's a little scary."

"Come closer, honey. I'm not going to hurt you."

Gerard steps closer, and closer, until there's barely enough room to breathe between him and Mikey. He can see where her bright red lipstick is smeared a little on her teeth, and the dark circles under her eyes. Gerard licks his lips. "What do you want me to do now?"

"Shh." Mikey lifts the gun and Gerard's eyes go to it, tracking the slow arc it makes in the air until the barrel rubs against his chin. Mikey's still smirking, her hand steady as she traces the cool metal along his jaw.

Gerard thinks, distantly, that he should probably be nervous right now. Mikey's a holding a gun an inch from his throat, after all. But he's not. He trusts Mikey inside-out, and they're just playing a game, after all. He lifts his chin and stands his ground, meeting Mikey's eyes.

"Brave girl," Mikey says, distinct approval in her voice. She runs the gun down the side of Gerard's neck, letting it bump his shoulder, then brings it up again, to his ear and then across his cheek, until the muzzle rests against his lower lip. 

Gerard takes a slow breath, feeling it fizz in his chest like soda water. His dick is getting hard between his legs, trying to get free of the confining underpants. 

"Open up," Mikey says.

Gerard does, letting his eyes fall closed as Mikey pushes the gun into his mouth. The metal is cold, and he has to open his jaw wide to keep it from bumping agianst his teeth. Mikey makes a noise as Gerard closes his lips around the barrel, kind of a shaky sigh. Gerard reaches out blindly, catching at Mikey's free hand and squeezing tight. Mikey squeezes back, her pulse pounding in her fingers not quite in tempo with the way she's thrusting the gun in and out of Gerard's mouth.

When she pulls it away altogether, Gerard lets it go with a wet pop and feels spit run down his chin. His lipstick must be all wrecked, he thinks, and he opens his eyes to look over at the mirror. There's dark violet streaked all over his chin, and the dark lines around his eyes are smeared where his eyes watered. He looks flushed and disheveled and more than a little debauched. A good girl who's had a naughty run-in.

Mikey, though. Mikey's still every inch the femme fatale, except for her unsteady breathing. Gerard turns back to her, meeting her eyes as steadily and boldly as he can manage.

"Teach me something else," Gerard says, licking his lips. 

Mikey raises an eyebrow, hope and fear flashing in her eyes. "Are you sure you've got the time, honey?"

"My train doesn't leave til noon tomorrow." Gerard rubs his thumb over Mikey's wrist, feeling her pulse race faster. "I've got all kinds of time."


End file.
